


pov

by imaqination



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Universe, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, School Life, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27813886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaqination/pseuds/imaqination
Summary: “No one loves me,” Oikawa whined.Iwaizumi looked at him for second, “Shame,” and went on with his work.Oikawa’s jaw dropped, “Iwa-chan! That was your cue to sayyouloved me."Iwaizumi didn’t look up this time, “Lying is bad.”Oikawa let out a high-pitched whine, “Why are you so mean to me?”“You make it so easy.”(In which Iwaizumi also finds out how easy it is to fall for him.)
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 29
Kudos: 65





	1. it's like you got superpowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to the lovechild of my all-consuming love for haikyuu and my desperate wish that iwaoi was canon. cheers.

Iwaizumi was running his hands through his hair, yanking clumps of his hair up into messy spikes. He wanted to look like Godzilla.

Iwaizumi had long since abandoned his sandcastle, and it was sitting sadly in front of him, teetering precariously in the sandbox. He had decided to dedicate himself to his hair, pausing only to itch at the sand that had crept up his pants. 

A gush of air threatened to disturb his carefully spiked up hair as a ball came flying towards the sandpit. A dull thud and Iwaizumi's sandcastle was once again a sad heap of sand, now with a volleyball buried in its center. The ball sent sand flying into the air; Iwaizumi ducked his head to protect his hairstyle.

There was a patter of feet on asphalt as he heard someone approach the sandbox. Iwaizumi froze with his hands on his head, fingers curled around two spikes of hair. He turned around slowly - hands still clasped ridiculously over his head - and looked up.

A small boy, pink-cheeked and wide eyed, was grinning down at him. "Oops!" he knelt down, cloud of brown hair bobbing, and picked up his volleyball. 

Iwaizumi didn't say anything, just glared at him.

After a moment, the boy tilted his head, "What're you doing?"

Iwaizumi was confused for a moment before he scowled and untangled his hands from his hair.

"Nothing," he said sullenly. Then as an afterthought, "You killed my castle," he added, just because he wanted to distract the boy from the awkward position he had been caught in. He doubted the other boy cared this much about his hair.

"You hadn't played with it in like an hour!" The sandcastle-crusher protested.

Iwaizumi picked at the bandage on his knee. He didn't disagree with this statement, nor ask how he knew. After a moment of consideration, "But - how can you play with a finished sandcastle?"

The boy looked stumped. For a moment his face worked as he tried to find the answer. In the end, he chose to ignore the question, plopping down cheerily beside him in the sandbox, "I'm Oikawa."

Iwaizumi didn't reply.

"I can play with you," Oikawa grabbed two handfuls of sand and patted them into a lump, "to make up for breaking your sandcastle!" He smiled like this was the world's greatest proposition. Then he leaned back to survey his handiwork. Now, in place of Iwaizumi's grand sandcastle was a sad looking hill. Oikawa didn't look too bothered by this.

He turned to Iwaizumi, who had simply been staring at Oikawa in stony silence and scrutinizing him with clinical interest. Oikawa looked unfazed by this, and rambled on, "Can you not talk well? Yesterday, I gave a speech on bugs! I don’t really like bugs but my teacher said I was great," he beamed, "I can teach you to talk like me, if you want."

Iwaizumi scowled hard, "Dummy."

Oikawa looked affronted, "You can speak! But not very nice things." His eyes snagged on an object in the sandbox. The little furrow in his eyebrows that had appeared when Iwaizumi called him a dummy smoothed out. His indignant pout reformed into a round “o.” 

"Hey-!" Oikawa picked up the Godzilla figure sitting in the sandbox next to Iwaizumi. He held it out to Iwaizumi, holding it in front of his face. He looked from the figurine to Iwaizumi, from Iwaizumi to the figurine. "You both have the same spikes!" He beams a gummy smile, like he's made a revolutionary scientific discovery.

Iwaizumi blinks once. Twice. Itched at the sand in his pants. And then- 

"I'm Iwaizumi."  
  


It was years before Oikawa admitted he had launched his volleyball into Iwaizumi's castle on purpose.

  
  


. . .

  
  


Their second encounter involved more flying objects and broken items.

Oikawa was sitting in his play area, humming a tune he’d learned in nursery. He tried to stand up to get his toy train from the far side of the room, but succeeded only in tripping over the train tracks. Before he could peel himself off the floor, a great shatter resounded through the room. 

For a split second, Oikawa saw something hurtle through the now-shattered window. He shrieked and ducked as a round object - _UFO?!_ Oikawa thought - hurtled towards him. 

Sadly no, not a UFO - just a ball. He watched it, and the glass, rain to the floor. 

Half out of fear at the glass around him, and half out of disappointment that there was no UFO, Oikawa's face bunched up and he burst into tears.

There was a highly stressful moment in which Oikawa’s mother burst in, both of them panicked, and she picked him up like a football and high-tailed him out of the room. They both jumped as the doorbell rang.

Oikawa still in her arms, and now looking slightly harassed, Oikawa’s mother opened the door. It opened to reveal a woman with kind eyes, and a small, grumpy looking kid.

Oikawa squirmed and wiggled his way out of his mother’s grasp, falling to an undignified heap on the floor. “Iwa-chan!” Oikawa bounced back to his feet. 

Both mothers moved aside, starting their own private conversation. The boys duly ignored the snippets of “will pay for damage” and “just moved in.”

Oikawa blinked, “It was you who tried to kill me?”

“No I didn’t,” Iwaizumi scowled.

“You did!” Oikawa wailed, determined to be as dramatic about the situation as possible. Determined to get Iwaizumi to apologize, if possible. And then maybe they can play.

“Didn’t.” Iwaizumi repeated stubbornly.

Oikawa felt tears brimming once again in the corners of his eyes, “You owe me a UFO!”

Iwaizumi had no idea what that meant. “You’re weird,” he grumbled. As an afterthought, “Crybaby,”

“I am _not_ a crybaby!” and he promptly burst into tears.

Iwaizumi looked up at his mother gloomily. Before the woman next to her could do anything, Iwaizumi’s mother gave him an encouraging nod and gestured to Oikawa. Iwaizumi resignedly reached into his hoodie and pulled out the milk bread he had brought over as an apology. He stuck out the packet abruptly, avoiding Oikawa’s eyes and making an angry noise to catch his attention. 

Oikawa peered at him through teary eyes, curiosity sufficiently piqued. Oikawa’s tears had slowed, though he made sure to continue to wail noisily. However, he merely stared at the packet in Iwaizumi’s hands. When it was clear he wasn’t going to take it just yet, Iwaizumi huffed and ripped the packet open. 

Iwaizumi thrust his hand out again, this time aggressively tapping the milk bread on Oikawa’s mouth. Oikawa made a sound of protest but grabbed it nonetheless. After a moment’s careful consideration, he took a bite. 

Then another. 

And another. 

Soon Oikawa was sniffling happily, cheeks round and full of milk bread. 

“Thank oo,” he mumbled around the food. The tears were gone.

Iwaizumi stood stiffly by his side, the wrapper from the milk bread crumpled in his fist. The frown on his face was gone too. 

  
  


. . . 

  
  


The next time they met, there was - finally - no fiasco.

Evidently, Iwaizumi had just moved into the house next door. For Oikawa, that meant seeing him often. Apparently, often enough that they couldn’t possibly manage to break something each time they met. 

After the milk bread incident, Oikawa decided to whole-heartedly forgive Iwaizumi’s attempt on his life and cling to him like glue. Where the supply of milk bread was, Oikawa followed. Iwaizumi outwardly acted very grumpy about this new arrangement, however, he didn’t throw a tantrum (what Oikawa would’ve done), so Oikawa happily took this to be a good sign.

“Iwa-chan, look!” Oikawa attempted a cartwheel and fell on his butt. Iwaizumi hastily patted him on the back, hoping he wouldn’t cry.

“Iwa-chan, look!” Oikawa picked a peony from the neighbor’s garden and handed it to him. Soon they were running away, half-giggling, half-squealing, from an angry neighbor. 

“Iwa-chan, _look!_ ” They were in Iwaizumi’s backyard, looking for bugs. Oikawa tried to impress Iwa by catching the biggest bug he could find. Only he shrieked and started crying instead, wailing incoherently about how the bug was “looking at him funny.”

After that, every time Iwaizumi found a bug (which was often), he’d chase Oikawa around and around the backyard, hands outstretched and clasped around the bug. He’d yell, “He wants to be your friend! Say hi!” 

“STOP! EEK- _STOP!_ ” Oikawa’s voice had reached an inhumanly high pitch. “I have all the friends I need!”

“I’m your only friend, dummy!” Iwaizumi said, his smile crooked and mischievous. “Here, have another,”

“I have all the friends I need!” Oikawa could only repeat, his voice now so high he could probably communicate with dolphins.

Oikawa pouted and sulked dramatically for the rest of the day. He stomped around and refused to talk to anybody. That is, until Iwaizumi approached him, whipping a milk bread from behind his back. Oikawa promptly forgot why he was pretending to sulk, offering Iwaizumi a brilliant smile.

  
  


. . . . 

  
  


Oikawa leaped out from behind the couch, dressed in a green alien onesie. “GARRR!” His arms were raised and his teeth were bared.

Iwaizumi looked unimpressed. 

Oikawa deflated, “You didn’t get scared,” he said sadly. 

“You’re not scary,” Iwaizumi pointed out.

Oikawa pouted. 

Later, Iwaizumi, dressed in his Godzilla onesie, leaped from out behind the door, “GARRR!”

Oikawa, who was walking into the room, squealed loudly and hid in the closet. 

“Hey, dummy,” Iwaizumi peeked into the closet, eyes finding the shivering pile of coats on the floor. “It was just me.”

“ _Mean_ , Iwa-chan!” Oikawa whined, voice muffled by the coats. His head popped out from inside the mound of clothes, only mussed up brown hair and sad, brown eyes visible. “You’re using my tricks against me!” 

“I am much better at it, too.” Iwaizumi said proudly. 

The next day, Oikawa threw a tantrum, insisting that he should be able to wear his alien onesie to the first day of school. Iwaizumi and his mother - who meant to join Oikawa and his mother to go to school - found Oikawa face flat on the living room floor. In the corner, Oikawa’s sister was giggling madly at Oikawa’s antics. Oikawa’s mother was looking harassed. 

Iwaizumi frowned, “Why are you wearing your onesie?”

Oikawa doesn’t move, still spread eagle on the floor, his face mashed into the carpet. “Because I want to!”

“But you can’t,”

“Why not?” He asked, petulantly. 

“Those are our outfits. They’re _special_ .” Iwaizumi sticked out his chin stubbornly. “Nobody else can see them. They are only for when _we_ play,”

Oikawa blinked. Well it was hard to fight that logic. He jumped up and raced upstairs, taking the stairs two steps at a time. Soon he was dressed - albeit in an alien t-shirt - and he scooted upto to Iwaizumi.

“They _are_ special!” Oikawa said happily. He dropped his voice, eyes-wide and hopeful, “Will you come over to play after school? I want to wear the onesie!” 

Iwaizumi nodded.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Oikawa smiled, but quickly found a new worry: the first day of school. Oikawa turned back to Iwaizumi, “I’m scared.”

“Why?” Iwaizumi sighed. Coming from Oikawa, ‘I’m scared’ could mean anything from _what if the aliens aren’t real?_ to _what if the store runs out of milk bread?_

“Today's the first day of elementary school,” Oikawa answered in a hushed voice. 

Iwaizumi sighed again, weighed down by the troubles of an aging man. “I’ll be with you.”

Oikawa fiddled with the hem of his shirt, but accepted this without complaint. When they reached school, Oikawa plaintively clutched onto Iwaizumi’s sleeve with one small fist and didn’t let go.

He needn’t have worried. It was clear Oikawa was going to be universally loved. Everyone adored his round, pink cheeks; earnest, round eyes; and soft, brown hair. Adults and children alike doted on his charms and wide smiles. When school ended and their mothers came to pick them up, Oikawa chattered non-stop about how _Iwa-chan_ and him had eaten lunch together, how they had made name tags and _Iwa-chan_ drew an alien on his for him, how they had practiced volleyball together on a _real_ school court. 

After school, as promised, they clambered into their onesies and hung out.

They were lying contentedly on the floor of the living room when Oikawa spoke up, voice earnest, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” 

Iwaizumi hummed noncommittally. 

“I don’t know what I want to be,” Oikawa continued. 

He hummed again. 

“Iwa-chan!” 

Iwaizumi finally looked up from his drawing, and placed the green crayon on the floor. He looked around, and picked up the volleyball near them. He chucked it at Oikawa. It hit him lightly in the chest, making him release air in is a small, “ _oomph_.”

“Be a volleyball player,” Iwaizumi shrugged and returned to his drawing.

Oikawa blinked, and then beamed, “Okay!”

Iwaizumi looked down at his artwork. He squinted at it critically. Turned his head to the side. His Godzilla drawing looked more like a misshapen mountain than anything else. 

Well, it looked like Iwaizumi wasn’t going to be an artist when he grew up. 

“Oh also,” Iwaizumi looked up again and said flatly, “if you call me Iwa-chan again, I’m finding a new best friend.” 

“Iwa-chan, did you just call me your best friend?” 

“Well,” Iwaizumi spluttered, “you’re not anymore!”

But he was. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this feels weird. i haven’t written a fanfic since i was 13 years old and obsessively wrote harry potter fics on Quotev lol. my friend recommended a haikyuu fic and I spiraled down the rabbit hole, reading one after the other after the other..  
> And now here I am, writing one again :') how nostalgic
> 
> this chapter is dedicated to the 24 sec of screen time oikawa got in the latest episode. god knows when we'll see him again :( but it's a-oK, those 24 sec were heaven.
> 
> anyways, comment and i'll love you forever. i really love reading them  
> hope you enjoyed<3


	2. i couldn't believe it

“Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi has long since given up, long since accepted that Oikawa was never going to call him anything other than that god-awful nickname. It has been years and he doesn’t think Oikawa has once, _once_ , just called him “Iwaizumi.” 

Of course, Iwaizumi ponders thoughtfully, “Iwa-chan” is a much better nickname than “Zoomie.” He shudders at the memory, thanking the gods - for the millionth time - that that particular nickname hadn’t stuck.

“Iwa-chan! Iwa-chan!” 

Resignedly, Iwaizumi looks up to see Oikawa bounding towards him, waving his phone in the air. Oikawa stops in front of him, smiling wide, “I watched that video you sent me! I analyzed it and I think I got some really good information out of it. Right before the ball came to him, the setter does this step with his-”

Iwaizumi zones out.

It was too early in the morning for this. Practice had gone too late yesterday, he had just finished a math test, and how on _Earth_ did Oikawa manage to be so excited, not a _hair_ out of place-

Iwaizumi doesn’t realize he’s glaring and grinding his teeth until Oikawa stops talking and grins at him. “Aw, is Iwa-chan grumpy? Did Iwa-chan not get his beauty sleep? I mean, obviously. You look like complete shi- _eek_!”

Oikawa yelps and sprints away from him before Iwaizumi can hit him. 

“I’m going to go buy something from the canteen!” Oikawa calls out from afar. Once he has put a safe amount of distance between them, Oikawa turns around and cheerily waves goodbye. “I was going to get you something, but then you tried to hit me!” he yells. Iwaizumi can see his shit-eating grin even from this distance. _Stupid, blinding smile. Can see it a mile away-_

Iwaizumi debates on giving him the finger before begrudgingly waving back, mumbling a few choice words directed at Oikawa - none of them complimentary. 

Iwaizumi lurches back into the classroom, shoulders hunched. He makes it five steps before he hears the tell-tale warning call - a series of loud whoops - and is assaulted by Hanamaki. _Crap._ And before he can do anything, Iwaizumi’s in a head-lock, ears bombarded by a stream of chatter.

“Iwaizumi! How’d you do on the test? I totally aced it, man - hey...where’s your better half? At least when he’s here people aren’t looking at your face...and you should see it right now! Did you sleep at all last night? Those eyebags are designer.” A snicker, “Well, now you look even worse. Scowling like that can’t be good for your skin. Hasn’t Oikawa taught you that already? Ah - that look can’t be good. I’m going to get it later aren’t I-?” 

Hanamaki’s tirade is interrupted by a second voice, “Cut it out, Hanamaki,”

Iwaizumi is about to thank his lucky stars for Matsukawa, when he continues, “Oikawa’s not going to like that you’ve got your hands all over his _beloved Iwa-chan_ ,”

Iwaizumi finally wriggles out of the headlock, “You little shit-!”

Oikawa walks into the classroom to find a very messy-haired Iwaizumi chasing a very scared-looking Hanamaki around the tables, while a very entertained-looking Matsukawa spectates. 

Oikawa approaches them, stuffing the last of his milk bread into his mouth. Voice muffled, he says, “Makki, what’d you do this time to invoke the wrath of our beloved Iwa-chan?” 

(From the corner, Matsukawa snickers, repeating under his breath, “‘ _Beloved Iwa-chan?_ ’ What’d I say?”)

Hanamaki looks up - or at least tries to - from the headlock Iwaizumi has him in. “It wasn’t that difficult, honestly; Iwaizumi is extra tetchy today. Hey Oikawa, is it because you didn’t give Iwaizumi any head tod-?” the words dissolve into a yelp as both Iwaizumi and Oikawa pounce on him, pinching at exposed skin.

A minute later and a disgruntled but subdued Hanamaki is sitting in his seat, rubbing his arms ruefully, “Okay, okay. No more jokes about the lovebirds in denial-” An eraser hits him square in the face. “ _-from this moment on_! Oi - save the throwing for practice!” He rubs his nose, mumbling under his breath, “So sensitive,”

Iwaizumi scowls, hoping his face isn’t red, “And you wonder why I’m ‘tetchy?’ That’s what happens when I have to see _your_ faces everyday.”

“Our faces?” Oikawa brings a hand to his mouth in mock surprise, “Shouldn’t that bless your day? Oh, you’re jealous, aren’t you, Iwa-chan! I know it must be hard to see all this beauty when you look like something out of those Godzilla movies you love so muc-”

“Oi, Shittykawa!” Iwaizumi glares at Oikawa, who looks up at him innocently, a pretty smile on his face.

They’re interrupted by a loud crinkling of a wrapper. The three turn to watch silently as Matsukawa opens a KitKat. Before either Oikawa or Hanamaki can demand a piece, Matsukawa takes a large bite. 

Oikawa and Hanamaki stare at the KitKat in horror for a moment. They turn to look at each other. They slowly turn to stare at Matsukawa. Then, there’s a small explosion of noise. Oikawa’s jaw is on the floor and he sputters, “Did you just - take a bite - without breaking it first -” while Hanamaki screams, “That’s - _that’s not how you’re supposed to eat it, you psychopath!_ ” 

Hanamaki is shrieking, Oikawa is wailing, and Iwaizumi wants to fucking die. Matsukawa calmly continues to eat his KitKat, looking supremely unconcerned. 

Iwaizumi groans loudly, slamming his face down onto his desk.

“Iwa-chan, there’s no need to ruin your face further…”

“Matsukawa,” Iwaizumi grits out, voice muffled against the desk “Save me. I think I might just kill one of them,”

Matsukawa smiles grandly, “Gladly. Let's leave these two children to their babbling,” and they hightail out of the classroom, leaving the other two behind, spluttering in indignation. Iwaizumi pointedly ignores the girls peering into the classroom from the door - no doubt fawning over Oikawa.

“So,” Matsukawa says the second they’re out of earshot. They make their way down the hallway, walking past others noisily enjoying their break. “Why _are_ you so irritated? Did Oikawa really not give you any today?”

Without a word, Iwaizumi turns a full one-eighty in the hallway and makes to stalk away from him. Matsukawa anticipates this and grabs him firmly by the sleeve, not allowing him to make his getaway. 

“I should start calling you Shittykawa too,” Iwaizumi grumbles.

“Ah, but that particular honor is only for Oikawa,” Matsukawa grins, “Cute, teasing nicknames like that are reserved for boyfriends,”

“BYE,” Iwaizumi spins around again, this time attempting to sprint away. But Matsukawa’s grip on his sleeve is ironclad, and he almost falls over instead. 

Matsukawa snickers, “I’ll stop,” and his smirk falls away, to be replaced by a curious look, “What _is_ going on between you two?”

“I thought you said you’d stop!” Iwaizumi says indignantly, “And I don’t know what you mean,” His heart is beating a little faster than usual. 

Matsukawa merely looks skeptical, “Hmm, sure,”

“Are we talking about _feelings_ now?” Iwaizumi splutters. “What is this, high school?”

“Well,” Matsukawa says drily, “Yeah.”

Iwaizumi puts his hand in his face and lets out a muffled scream. “You were supposed to be the one I don’t have to beat up, asshole. I’m not in the mood for an interrogation.”

Matsukawa looks delighted, “Oho! So there’s something to find out, is there?”

“No, you shit. Oikawa annoys me and I hit him, and that’s the extent of our relationship.” Iwaizumi can’t imagine what’s prompting this. _Something between them?_ Iwaizumi laughs internally, although he feels a bit tingly at the thought. 

“C’mon,” Matsukawa says seriously, “Something’s been off with you. And it’s only when you’re with Oikawa. Did something happen?”

Iwaizumi falls silent, not deigning to answer.

But - he knows what Matsukawa is talking about. He knows something’s been different between Oikawa and him. Grinding his teeth, Iwaizumi thinks that if Matsukawa had noticed, it must be pretty obvious. And if it was obvious, it had to be a pretty big change.

Iwaizumi unconsciously slows his pace, frowning. He thinks back to the last time Oikawa asked to join him in his bed because it was thundering outside. That wasn’t new - it’d been happening since they were four. But maybe, Iwaizumi had just finally realized that it wasn’t usual for best friends. So that night, he’d tensed a little as Oikawa slung his leg over him in his sleep, even though he always did that. That night, Iwaizumi had sucked in his breath when Oikawa’s cheek pressed up against his back, even though that had happened a million times before. 

Iwaizumi scowls hard enough he can practically hear Oikawa in his head crowing, “Wrinkles Iwa-chan. You’re going to get _wrinkles_.” But that only causes Iwaizumi to scowl harder, because he should _not_ be hearing Oikawa’s stupid voice in his head. He hears enough of it as is. 

Iwaizumi doesn’t realize he’s stopped walking altogether until Matsukawa waves a hand in front of his face. Iwaizumi turns to see his friend with a knowing smirk on his face.

Matsukawa hums thoughtfully, “I think it’s time Hanamaki and I staged an intervention,”

“Oi!”

  
  


. . .

  
  


“Those assholes,” Hanamaki says cheerfully, reaching into Matsukawa’s bag and pulling out the remaining KitKat. “Ditching us like that,”

“ _Such_ assholes,” Oikawa agrees good-naturedly and puts out his hand for Hanamaki to split the KitKat with him. 

For a moment there’s a comfortable silence in which both of them happily enjoy their stolen candy. 

A squealed chorus of _Oikawa!_ s draws his attention. From the door, a group of girls giggle and wave at him. Oikawa beams (the type of plasticy smile that Iwaizumi hates) and waves. When the girls leave, Hanamaki pretends to swoon, fluttering his lashes at Oikawa, “Ladykiller.” 

“Not just ladies,” Oikawa winks.

Hanamaki facepalms exaggeratedly, “Of course - how could I forget Iwaizumi?”

Oikawa doesn’t miss a beat, “Nobody can resist my charms! There’s no exception!”

“So,” Hanamaki rests his head on his hand, smirking slyly up at Oikawa. “You guys dating yet?”

There’s a delicate cough. “Me and who?” Oikawa asks innocently. 

“You and ‘ _Iwa-chan_ ,’” Hanamaki rolls his eyes. “Who else?”

“Oh, he wishes.”

“So do you,” a wink. 

“I can’t tie myself down to just one person, Makki!” Oikawa yelps, pretending to be scandalized. “Think of what that’ll do to my fans! They’ll never recover! Guys and girls alike will be heartbroken, they’ll be unable to focus on studies, flub their college entrance exams, end up working at a fast food joint! The economy of Japan will suffer, and the overall standard of living goes down! Japan becomes a desolate, desolate place....all because of my selfishness!” Oikawa shakes his head, “I could never do that. I’m too noble.”

“And humble, apparently.” Hanamaki snickers. “I don’t know how Iwaizumi deals with you. Ah, the things you do for love,” he sighs dramatically.

“I _am_ easy to love!” Oikawa smiles angelically. 

“...”

“...”

“Makki, don’t say it,” Oikawa warns. “Don’t.”

“You mispronounced impossible.”

“Makki, I’m taking you off the team.”

Hanamaki disregards this and hums thoughtfully, “I brought up Iwaizumi three different times and you brushed it off each time. I think it’s time Matsukawa and I staged an intervention.”

“Wha- I’ll tell Mattsun about your hideously large crush on him!”

Hanamaki disregards this too.

When the other two finally return, Oikawa throws his arms around Iwaizumi, “Iwa-chan, Makki is bullying me,” he pouts.

Iwaizumi pats him on the head and says gruffly, “Can’t blame him,”

Oikawa’s jaw drops and he whines, “So _mean_ , Iwa-chan,”

There’s a fervent whispering happening behind them, so they both turn to see Matsukawa and Hanamaki in a corner huddled together. A familiar mischievous smile has crept onto Hanamaki’s face. That can’t be good. Oikawa narrows his eyes, “What’re you two doing?”

The jump and turn to face him, “Nothing, captain,” they chorus. 

_Plotting_. Oikawa thinks, and sighs.

. . . 

  
  


That night, Iwaizumi wakes from his sleep to an enormous clap of thunder. He doesn’t usually wake up for thunderstorms, but he does for certain annoying friends. Iwaizumi looks outside, desperately hoping that maybe that clap of thunder was a figment of his imagination. No such luck; the sky outside is dark and cloudy, torrents of rain falling to the ground. As he watches, a flash of lightning slices through the sky. 

Through sleep-blurred eyes he looks at the clock; the light reads 4.01am. Iwaizumi sighs resignedly and picks up his phone. _Give it a minute…_

Soon enough, his phone lights up with a notification.

**Shittykawa:** coming over 

Iwaizumi sighs, closing his eyes in what he knows is about to be his last moment of peace for the night. Then, grumbling darkly under his breath, he clambers out of bed (not before tripping over his sheets), and sneaks downstairs. 

He unlocks the backdoor, collapses onto the couch and waits.

There’s a quiet click as somebody opens and closes the door. Iwaizumi lifts his head drowsily to see Oikawa standing there in frayed flannel pajamas. He sets his umbrella down by the door, and when he looks up, Iwaizumi sees that his face is slightly pale. 

Iwaizumi gets up and walks over to Oikawa. He slings an arm around him, rubbing Oikawa’s arms to stop the shivering. Wordlessly, they walk upstairs.

Iwaizumi watches Oikawa clamber into his bed and disappear into the sheets. He follows, getting into bed. But-

“Hey Shittykawa. You’ve taken all the blankets.”

Oikawa peeks out from under the covers, only his forehead and big eyes visible, “My need is greater than yours right now, Iwa-chan.”

“Don’t be a brat, give me _some_ at least!” he hisses. 

“No!” Oikawa whispers yells back.

“Yes!” Iwaizumi yanks the blanket to his side.

“ _No!_ ” Oikawa yanks it back.

“ _Yes!_ ” and there ensues a wrestling match as they yank the blanket back and forth, hissing a litany of curses and threats. A whispered argument about who needs the sheets more, and they come to a compromise: share. Neither are happy about this. Grumpily they share the blanket; though Iwaizumi’s arms are crossed over his chest and Oikawa is pouting. 

Then there’s another clap of thunder and Iwaizumi feels Oikawa flinch next to him - even though he knows he tried to hide it.

A moment passes, “Hey Oikawa,” 

Oikawa slowly reappears from under the blanket. Iwaizumi can see he’s surprised that he said ‘Oikawa’ and not some vulgar variation of his name.

Iwaizumi closes his eyes, in physical _pain_ , and braces himself. “How do Japanese chihuahuas say hello?”

Oikawa smiles, “I dunno. How?”

“Konnichihuahua,"

Oikawa blinks at him for a second, stunned, and then bursts into laughter. Iwaizumi watches him, grudgingly smiling, not because of the joke (which he kind of hated, but knew Oikawa would love), but because there is color in Oikawa's cheeks again. When Oikawa smiles, a real smile - the one others rarely see - his eyes and nose wrinkle up. It's nice to see. 

Then Iwaizumi snaps out of it and realizes a) Oikawa is not supposed to be here and b) it’s four in the morning. So he hurriedly smothers Oikawa with a pillow, not wanting to wake anybody up. In response, Oikawa lets out an indignant squeak and thrashes in the bed, long arms and legs failing in every direction.

“Oi- Shittyka- _oomph,_ ” the air is knocked out of him as one of Oikawa’s legs make contact with his stomach. In revenge, Iwaizumi reaches across the bed and tickles Oikawa. He jerks away from the touch, squealing, and tries to tickle him back. After a moment of intense wrestling, they fall off the bed and onto the floor with a large thump, a mess of tangled up limbs and sheets.

They freeze and fall silent, listening to see if anybody heard them and woke up. When no lights turn on, when no angry parents stomp down the hall, they relax. Iwaizumi looks over, Oikawa looks less tense now, and the sounds of the thunderstorm have faded into background noise. 

They’re still on the floor when Oikawa starts giggling again. “Hey Iwa-chan,”

“Hmm?”

“What did one farmer say to the other farmer?” Oikawa’s voice is strained, like he’s trying to hold back laughter.

“What?”

“We’re both farmers,” and he lets out a peal of laughter.

“I-” Iwaizumi stares at Oikawa, who is pink cheeked from mirth and has a hand clasped over his mouth to muffle his laughter. “That is the goddamned shittiest joke I’ve ever heard.”

Oikawa laughs harder, burying his face in the pillow.

“What the actual fuck?” Iwaizumi says in wonderment. “Why the hell are you laughing?” 

Oikawa continues to laugh, now rolling around on the floor. 

Utterly bemused, Iwaizumi untangles himself from the blanket and climbs back into bed, dragging a giddily laughing Oikawa behind him. “Crappykawa, shut up. It’s time to sleep.”

Oikawa giggles, “Okay mom,”

It takes a while, but Oikawa’s laughter subsides. The rain has let up and is now falling slowly. The sound is calming, and Iwaizumi feels his eyes closing. He thinks Oikawa has calmed down too, and hopes he’ll fall asleep soon. On the days there is a huge thunderstorm like this, Oikawa gets tense and scared - though he won’t admit it - and takes hours to fall asleep, which can’t be good for him. With the amount of time he spends playing volleyball, he needs to get proper rest. A wave of exhaustion rolls over Iwaizumi. _He_ needs rest too, he thinks sleepily. Dealing with Oikawa is a full time job, and takes all his energy. The rain patters on outside, and Iwaizumi feels himself drifting off. 

“I haven’t eaten a fruit in two weeks. Is that bad?”

Iwaizumi jerks awake. 

“You piece of shit. Shut up and let me sleep.” Iwaizumi scowls and yanks the blanket over his head, hoping to drown out the sound of Oikawa’s voice.

Oikawa falls silent again, and Iwaizumi tries to fall asleep. But this time, he can’t. _Fall asleep_. _Ignore it_. His left eye twitches. _Just let it be._

His resolve crumbles. 

“What the hell do you mean you haven’t eaten a fruit in two weeks?” He bursts out. “Eat your fruits! You spend so much time on the court, you’re going to get sick. If you do, I’ll punch you!”

“Iwa-chan, you’re going to shorten your lifespan with all that anger,” Oikawa yawns. 

Iwaizumi inwardly seethes.

They’re both silent again for another while. Listening to the sounds of Oikawa’s slow breathing and the rain gently falling, Iwaizumi feels himself drifting off again. Then,

“No offense to me, but what the hell am I doing with my life?”

Iwaizumi promptly shoots up in bed and throws a pillow in Oikawa’s face to shut him up. He lies back down huffily. 

Iwaizumi knows Oikawa has finally - _finally_ \- fallen asleep when he’s suddenly trapped under Oikawa’s leg, which has draped over him. Only then does he remember his conversation with Matsukawa, and the inner turmoil it brought him. 

Suddenly, he’s wide awake again, hyper-aware of Oikawa’s leg on top of him, the warmth coming from him, the slow breathing he feels against his back. 

He thinks, desperately, _friends don’t-_

But then Oikawa burrows into his back, warm and comforting, and Iwaizumi thinks, _fuck it._ And he presses in closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so if you haven't noticed yet, the title of this fic is a song name and the chapter titles are lyrics from the song (because I'm just _that_ original). but I had to because a) I suck at coming up with titles and b) when I first heard "pov" I thought of oikawa (although that might just be because I think of him 24/7) and I can almost hear him saying the lyrics to iwa. anyways, the song is beautiful, iwaoi is beautiful. what else is new
> 
> was it obvious that this fic is an excuse to write the seijoh third years on crack?  
> no real iwaoi yet because i wanted to write the dumb high school stuff before i got to the pining and angst hah
> 
> I live off comments :') cough


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